Sassie Goolie stood in line at the local movie
theater, waiting to see the Saturday afternoon matinee. Her long hair
flowed behind her, swept up in a bun. She carried on her person: a
large black purse filled with candy bars, a small container of
chicken, and a plastic bag of Hawaiian punch. The line moved slowly,
though she was one of a few patrons, standing in line, waiting to see
the movie. She was in town, a two-hour drive from home, to see the
latest picture starring her favorite actor. The reviews had been
dismal, at best, but Sassie considered herself faithful to the man
whom she always looked forward to seeing up on the big screen. A
small tap on her shoulder awakened her senses.

“You’re not from around here? I can
tell by your hairdo and your bag. Oh, what a lovely combination. You
don’t see anything fancy around these parts like that! I also
saw the cab drop you off? Are you visiting anyone, special?”
the older woman asked. Her kind blue eyes hid the deceit that Sassie
wouldn’t recognize.

“No. Just going to the local school,”
Sassie replied and wondered if she had given too much information.

“And the hairdo? Bag?” the woman
asked. She moved a little bit closer. Sassie could smell butter and
pancake syrup erupting from the woman’s flowery sweater. In
this part of the world, one could actually go outside on a November
afternoon with just a sweater on.

“The hairdo I did myself. The bag I got
from the dollar store. I only paid five dollars for it.”

“Five dollars at the dollar store? Isn’t
that life’s irony?” the woman asked. Sassie just nodded
her head. She was eager to get inside the movie theater and begin
watching her movie.

“You said that you go to the local school? What
are you studying? In my day, I found musical theatre to be the most
exciting. I always planned on running off to New York as a gal to be
a Rockette. Course that was many, many years ago, but now, I just go
to the movies. I enjoy watching the matinee. By the way, my name is
Myrna. Like Myrna Loy. Ever heard of her? Oh, she was so pretty when
she was young, and political too. But that doesn’t bother me.
Say, gal, what’s your name?”

“I came to the matinee. For some alone
time,” Sassie replied and abruptly turned her body away from
the woman.

“So rude. Did your mother give you the
same amount of money when she gave you the money for that cheap bag?”
the woman retorted.

Sassie shook her head no. She could feel her
bun coming loose but she blinked twice and then she was standing in
front of the ticket counter.

The ticket clerk gave her a once over and repeated
the same line she repeated day in, and day out. “How many
tickets will you be purchasing?” she asked. Her frozen smile
along with her crooked teeth made Sassie cringe at the woman’s
fakeness.

“One ticket for the one o’clock,”
Sassie said.

“That will be seven dollars and fifty
cents please,” the ticket clerk responded.

Sassie handed the woman her money. The older
woman behind her said to the woman behind her, “That’s
more than she paid for that cheap bag. I don’t understand why
she’s buying a ticket. This is a local theater. Not made for
you,” Myrna said.

Sassie went inside the movie theater and realized
that she was doing the owner a favor. Besides the cheap, faded
wall-covered plush, the old, dry carpet and the bruised gold loopings
that separated the back of the movie theater from the front, Sassie
saw a small line of people standing in front of the concession stand.
She looked up at the menu prices, and was not about to spend the last
of her school money on popcorn and a soda. She passed to the right,
briefly turning back to the see the woman called Myrna buying her
ticket, and moving toward the concession stand.

Sassie’s knees felt like foam dumbbells
in water, and she breathed heavily through her mouth as she climbed a
set of stairs to hand the second ticket clerk her ticket. He pointed
to the left, tore her ticket in half and politely stepped aside so
she could make her way into the theatre. Theatre #8 had a plastic
sign in big, bold letters that spelled out the name of the movie.
Next to the entrance was a splashy, encased poster featuring her
favorite actor looming over the title of the movie and the rest of
the showcase. She nodded her head in approval and headed inside.

Of course, the movie had to be showcased inside
the room with the largest set of stairs. She breathed again and hoped
no one was watching as she waddled her way up the stairs and sat down
halfway from the top. Sassie could barely squeeze into the seat, but
was thankful that her behind was cushioned. With her purse next to
her, she reached inside her bag, tore open a candy bar and her
container of chicken. Though the lights were dim, Sassie’s eyes
darted around carefully for any signs of a theatre usher that might
ask her to put away her food. She was on her second piece of chicken
when the woman called Myrna saw her and began waving as though they
had come together to see the movie.

“Well, these stairs. They certainly
weren’t thinking of us when they made them. Know what I mean?”
Myrna said and placed her leg on top of Sassie’s knee. Sassie’s
eyes went wide and Myrna cried, “It’s hard! Your knees.
But I expected all fat!”

“Do you mind? I’d really like to be
alone,” Sassie replied.

“Oh, I get it. I insulted you? Not yet,”
Myrna said. She left Sassie sitting there eating her food. Myrna
returned with the theater manager. Sassie could hear the woman
saying,” Oh, I’ve got a life. Yes, I realize that, but
she’s not eating your food. She couldn’t even make it up
the stairs without falling over into my lap. There she is.” The
theater manager came up to Sassie’s row. “I’m
afraid I’m going to have to ask you for your food. I’m
terribly sorry. Theater policy. She’s a regular, ” the
manager whispered, nodding at Myrna. Sassie handed over her ticket.
“This is ridiculous. She put her leg on my knee and I can’t
afford your food! This town is too small for me. I’ll guess
I’ll just have to wait until the movie is on cable.”
Sassie got up and left. The woman called Myrna stuck her tongue out
at her. “Can I get a refund on my ticket?” Sassie asked
the theater manager. “I’m afraid not. Again, theater
policy.” Sassie heard Myrna shout to another woman sitting
nearby, “It was good exercise for her.” That was enough
for Sassie. She marched back up the stairs, purse and all, and dumped
the chicken into Myrna’s lap. “Now, you’ll smell
like chicken instead of pancake syrup.” Sassie then bent over
and pulled her pants and underwear down. “Where does she carry
it? It’s smaller than I would have imagined,” Myrna said
as Sassie, now red-faced, exited the theater.

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